


Fringilla: Reflect

by MaliciousVegetarian



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Character Study, F/F, Homestuck AU, Meteor, an attempt at one at least, it's not a homestuck fic if no one's wearing shades, pesterlogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:54:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29434914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaliciousVegetarian/pseuds/MaliciousVegetarian
Summary: It's hard being stuck on a meteor.  It's hard and nobody understands.Having your crush stuck on the same meteor, though . . .Or, the Homestuck au which I shall be obliterated from the earth for daring to write
Relationships: Fringilla Vigo/Pavetta (The Witcher), Fringilla Vigo/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9
Collections: The Witcher Quick Fic #06





	Fringilla: Reflect

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I have some Vocabulary for you (with the caveat that I have not read Homestuck in a while. This could all be wrong)
> 
> Derse and Prospit: where game players go when they dream  
> Pitch: denotes a variant of troll romance that focuses on intense competition and feelings of dislike  
> Godtier: a rank achieved by dying in a certain place, godtier players unlock the powers of their classpect and get a cool new outfit  
> Classpects: every player has a class (example: Light, Doom) and an aspect (Rogue, Bard). Together, they determine a player’s godtier powers  
> Alchemiter: a machine that can be used to generate objects when a code is entered
> 
> Also, this contains troll romance but no trolls. Don't @ me.

It's another boring day on the meteor. She's not entirely sure how four teenagers could have run out of entertainment so quickly, but they sure have. Being stuck on a meteor is hard. It's hard and no one understands.

Well. The three other people on the meteor understand, but it's the repetition of a theme. You've got to use it when you have the chance.

Actually, Fringilla is lucky. Luck is sort of her Thing, in a very literal game mechanics sense. Which is weird, because pre-Sburb her luck was pretty awful. Being Lightbound, she's discovered, doesn't mean she has *good* luck.

On the other hand, it's very unlucky to have ended up stuck on a meteor for three years while the girl you've been crushing on for basically ever is stuck on a big ship, and both of you are flying through space and only have Pesterchum to communicate with. 

Because the game sucks, they've been split up by random mechanics - where you go when you dream. Cool, crystalline Derse or bright golden Prospit. Fringilla's a Derse dreamer. She leads revolutions in her sleep - literally. She’s kind of a badass, which is a new experience for her, because back on earth she was a quiet kid who only made trouble by accident. Here, she’s. She’s kind of a coolkid. It’s weird.

She is also, currently, apparently, the only one awake. The main area of the meteor is almost eerie in its quiet, seeming to be gathering dust as she stands there. Suddenly, it reminds her of videos she’s seen of the wreck of the Titanic, deep under the ocean, and she shudders.

She tries to push the thoughts away, because if her mind strays to the crushing weight of space around them she’ll go under. She’d had three panic attacks their first day out. Now, she manages by firmly not thinking about it. It’s easier than it seems to convince herself the space rock they’re stuck on is stationary. She just has to pretend really, really hard, like when she was little and used to make believe the pine tree in their backyard was the mast of a sailing ship. Ironic, that she ended up on the meteor, in a way.

Speaking of the ship, maybe someone else is up. She pulls out her phone and opens a memo.

astronomicAptitude (AA) has opened the memo Morning  
AA: Anyone awake  
troubadourAbsurdity (TA): yes hello hi  
TA: fringilla my love  
TA: fringy  
TA: gilla  
TA: frigo  
AA: ?  
TA: it’s your last and first name shoved together  
TA: not my best work, i’ll admit  
TA: it’s early, why are you awake?  
AA: Couldn’t sleep  
AA: And isn’t that slightly hypocritical, Jaskier?  
TA: touche  
TA: can’t a man enjoy a sunrise without being bombarded with criticism   
TA: or you know  
TA: the complete lack of a sun  
AA: Technically  
AA: We’re passing hundreds of suns  
AA: Just because they aren’t suns to us doesn’t make them not suns  
TA: and here i thought i was the poet of the group  
grenadierCall (GC): technically that would be me  
GC: I am your Bard, after all  
TA: don’t rub it in pavetta  
TA: i have been STRIPPED of my rightful title and shoved into the lowly rank of page  
TA: my life is barren  
GC: . . .   
AA: . . . .  
cuspidateAugary (CA): Oh lovely, the taste of absolute nonsense in the morning.  
CA: My dreams made more sense.  
TA: ooh, that’s a weak one, yen  
TA: i see someone hasn’t had her morning cup of evil yet  
CA: That’s the best you can come up with? Pitiful.  
theoreticalCytology (TC): would you two stop it?  
TC: or do I have to wake Istredd.  
CA: No, Triss, we’ll handle ourselves.  
AA: Yennefer  
CA: Fringilla.  
AA: I didn’t think anyone else was awake  
CA: Well.  
CA: I am.  
GC: something smells like pitch . . .  
CA: Hush.

A noise behind Fringilla makes her look up. It’s Geralt, his hair falling out of its scrunchy and his eyes still twisted with sleep. He hmmms a greeting to her, and fumbles towards the []. Fringilla’s stomach rumbles at the thought of food, even the weird food they get from the []. It never tastes quite real, but it’s filling at least.

Sometimes, when she can’t sleep at night, Fringilla thinks about what food she’s going to eat first when they get their new universe, when they win. She thinks about french fries and Heinz ketchup - other brands just don’t taste the same. She thinks about the cinnamon rolls her uncle used to make. She thinks about coffee, real coffee with sugar that doesn’t leave a bitter aftertaste in your mouth. She dreams about milk that doesn’t smell slightly suspicious.

It’s easier to think about that, to focus on the small things, than it is to think about the big picture, the fact that she and her friends will have to create a universe, ensure the survival of a new era of humans, protect them and shepard them, watching over them as literal gods. That’s another rabbit hole she refuses to fall down. They’ll manage, somehow.

She’s just not sure she’s ready to handle that kind of power, is the thing.

It hits her sometimes, that they’re all so young. They’re just kids, barely fifteen, and it isn’t fair. It isn’t fair that doing something fun with their friends destroyed the world and sent them on a madcap race to salvage some kind of universe. It isn’t fair that they have to be gods. Which of course, seems like an odd thing to complain about until you’re in the position yourself.

And Geralt, of course, doesn’t remember any of that. For whatever reason, when he’d gone godtier, his memory had been wiped, leaving all of them scrambling to rebuild their relationships with him. It’s hard, having memories of someone they don’t. For Fringilla, it’s the two of them side by side, leading the revolution on Derse.

Geralt passes her a bowl of whatever it is, and she takes it without really looking. It doesn’t feel like morning, she thinks. It never does. She misses windows - like, the concept of them.

Yennefer’s room is close enough to the kitchen that Fringilla can hear her open the door. She seems to almost float out, and as usual the sight of her makes Fringilla’s mouth go dry, with fury or maybe something deeper. How dare she look so good this early in the morning, her dark red godtier pajamas unwrinkled. Fringilla smoothes her own orange ones without meaning to.

Yennefer Vengerburg flusters her, there’s no way around it. She always has, since the eight of them started messaging as children. She makes Fringilla’s breath catch, can make her angry like no one else.

Fringilla’s not an idiot, and Pavetta knows her well. She’s long ago admitted she’s deepest, darkest pitch for Yennefer. But she never says anything, because there’s no point. Yennefer doesn’t think about her enough to hate her. Fringilla’s sure of that.

Although. The game, and particularly their years on the meteor, have brought them closer than before. It turns out, when she’s not making Fringilla want to obliterate her, to surpass her in every way, Yennefer is actually good company. She’s got a handful of cheesy romance novels that they’ve all read so many times they’re starting to fall apart. They’ve proved invaluable for dramatic readings, with Fringilla and Yennefer trying to outdo each other with their performances. They have also, at the suggestion of Renfri, the fourth Derse dreamer and occupant of the meteor, combined the captchacards for them with others to produce some very - specifically themed alternatives. A notable example prominently features pumpkins in scandalous places.

Yennefer smiles at the two of them, moving to place a hand on Geralt’s shoulder and placing a kiss on his cheek. Fringilla’s stomach roils with jealousy, even though she has no flushed feeling for Yennefer. How does this person keep doing this to her?

Moments later, there’s a loud bang that Fringilla immediately identifies as Renfri slamming her door open, as she does every morning. The hero of Doom slides on sock feet into the kitchen, pushing up her signature sunglasses to reveal her eerie eyes, such a bright brown they’re almost red.

“Sup, losers,” she greets.

“Morning, Ren,” Geralt says, sipping a cup of coffee he’s somehow acquired. A nice thing about the meteor - no guardians around to forbid caffeine.

“What are your plans for the day? I’m sure they’re thrilling.” 

Geralt shrugs. “Probably messaging Jaskier and Pavetta, and reading.” Of all of them, Geralt seems the most settled about their current situation.

“I thought I might mess around with the alchemeter for a while,” Yennefer says thoughtfully. “See what atrocities I can produce.”

Fringilla has to bite her tongue before she can dare Yennefer to make something more horrible than what she, Fringilla, can. There’s being rivals, and then there’s open flirting.

“What are you going to do, Renfri?” She asks instead. The girl smiles, letting her shades drop back into place. It always surprises Fringilla a bit that her teeth aren’t pointed.

“Ohhhh, I don’t know. Explore the vents more? See if I can scavenge anything for Cantown.”

Fringilla leaves them talking and moves to one of the small rooms neat the kitchen, pulling a pen and notebook from behind a shelf. She's been planning for two years how they're going to defeat Roach North, and she's almost there, she thinks. Assuming everyone will go along with it and her theories about their various powers hold out.

She has little awareness of the passage of time here, as there's no light source other than the lamps above them. She's putting together a plan to use Pavetta's Space powers to their full use when someone comes up behind her and puts their hand over hers, claiming control of it. She doesn't have to look to know who it is. 

"Yennefer," she says, slightly exasperated. "I thought you were creating abominations."

"Got bored," Yennefer almost chirps. "So I thought I'd play a game of Penis Ouija with my favorite lucky bastard."

The rules of Penis Ouija are well established and simple - two people hold one pen. They fight for control of it. It always produces dicks. Every time.

Fringilla would like to be left to her writing, but she can recognize that under the annoyance there's a thrill at Yennefer's hand on top of hers. There's something like a spark in the feeling of the Blood player's muscles straining against hers. She pushes the thought away and moves the pen.

They push back and forth for a while, and Fringilla watches in no small dismay as her clean page is covered in a total of three poorly drawn and shaky penises. But maybe, something at the back of her mind whispers, it's worth it.

With a surprisingly gentle tug, Yennefer pulls the pen from Fringilla's hand and twirls it like a villian's mustache, admiring their handywork. "Think we can get it to give us some Georgia O'Keeffes next time?"

Fringilla almost laughs, and the almost laughing makes her furious, and then there's really nothing to do but reach up, slide one hand around the back of Yennefer's neck, and kiss her hard.

Yennefer leans in.

\--

chevallerousTendancies (CT) began pestering troubadourAbsurdity (TA)

CT: Just saw Fringilla and Yen kissing  
CT: Thought you'd want to know  
TA: excellent  
TA: i'll add it to the shipping chart

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this nonsense!


End file.
